14 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUli. 



The lad was a mere stripling — some fifteen or sixteen years, 

 perhaps — tall, slight, and neat, with dark hair and eyes, and was 

 dressed in a brown jacket — a real boy's jacket, without laps, white 

 cords, and top-boots. It was his business to risk his neck and 

 limbs at all hours of the day, on all sorts of horses, over any sort of 

 place that any person chose to require him to put a horse at, and 

 this he did with the daring pleasure of youth as yet undaunted by 

 any serious fall. Sam now bestirred himself to get out the horse. 

 The clambering of hoofs presently announced his approach. 



Whether Hercules was called Hercules on account of his amaz- 

 ing strength, or from a fanciful relationship to the famous horse 

 of that name, we know not ; but his strength and his colour 

 would favour either supposition. He was an immense, tall, power- 

 ful, dark brown, sixteen hands horse, with an arched neck and 

 crest, well set on, clean, lean head, and loins that looked as if they 

 could shoot a man into the next county. His condition was 

 perfect. His coat lay as close and even as satin, with cleanly 

 developed muscle, and altogether he looked as hard as a cricket- 

 ball. He had a famous switch tail, reaching nearly to his hocks, 

 and making him look less than he would otherwise have done. 



Mr. Sponge was too well versed in horse-flesh to imagine that 

 such an animal would be in the possession of such a third-rate 

 dealer as Buckram, unless there was something radically wrong 

 about him, and as Sam and Leather were paying the horse those 

 stable attentions that always precede a show out, Mr. Sponge 

 settled in his own mind that the observation about his requiring a 

 horseman to ride him, meant that he was vicious. Nor was he 

 wrong in his anticipations, for not all Leather's whistlings, or 

 Sam's endearings and watchings, could conceal the sunken, scowl- 

 ing eye, that as good as said, " you'd better keep clear of me." 



Mr. Sponge, however, was a dauntless horseman. What man 

 dared he dared, and as the horse stepped proudly and freely out of 

 the stable, Mr. Sponge thought he looked very like a hunter. Nor 

 were Mr. Buckram's laudations wanting in the animal's behalf. 



" There's an 'orse ! " exclaimed he, drawing his right hand out 

 of his trouser pocket, and flourishing it towards him. " If that 

 'orse were down in Leicestersheer," added he, " he'd fetch three 

 'under'd guineas. Sir Bichard would 'ave him in a minnit — that 

 he ivould!" added he, with a stamp of his foot as he saw the 

 animal beginning to set up his back and wince at the approach of 

 the lad. (We may here mention by way of parenthesis, that Mr. 

 Buckram had brought him out of Warwicksheer for thirty pounds, 

 where the horse had greatly distinguished himself, as well by kick- 

 ing off sundry scarlet swells in the gaily-thronged streets of Lea- 

 mington, as by running away with divers others over the wide- 

 stretching grazing grounds of Southam and Dunchurch.) 



